


Shut Up Honey

by aohatsu



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Body Image, F/F, Gender Changes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 21:19:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aohatsu/pseuds/aohatsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just a little frustrating, that Patricia can be so <i>good</i> at their sport, and then still look the way she does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shut Up Honey

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [Bekka](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hecklin), as always. She practically wrote a few of the scenes this time though, so ilu, Bekka. ♥
> 
> I know there's a bajillion genderswap/genderbender aus' for this fandom already, but whatever, I WRITE WHAT I WRITE. Patrick has become Patricia, her sisters have become her brothers because their names didn't actually need to be changed to do so. Jonny is still Jonny, just because at the time of writing I was having issues deciding a female version of his name. She is very much still a girl though, and David is still a dude, just because I say so.
> 
> This fic also touches on body image issues, and some general self-worth issues. None of it is too harsh though.
> 
> Um, I think that's it? Enjoy!
> 
>  **Edit:** For reference, and because Bekka found the images on google like a good beta: [Jonny's Hairstyle](http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZRwv0CveJmo/TyugXInh2HI/AAAAAAAAFOg/sDzpNrKm4b8/s1600/Teen-Short-Hairstyles-2012.jpg)(ish) and [Patricia's Hairstyle](http://www.girlishh.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/Wild-Curls-Hairstyle.jpg) when she's not trying too hard. XD

If she hadn't just been coming off the high of the game, Jonny probably would've been paying attention to the conversation going on around her. As it is, she's just tugging off her gear, still covered in sweat, when Patricia says, "Jonny, you coming out with us tonight?"

Patricia moves to drop her jersey in the disgusting pile of Blackhawks laundry in the middle of the locker room, wearing nothing but her sweat-soaked black sports bra as she does. She angles herself so that the mini-fan in Bollig's locker is sending air right at her, but she's still looking at Jonny with that stupid little grin she always wears after she gets the winning goal.

"You better be!" Sharpy yells from his stall, and then adds, in Patricia's direction, "And you better fucking take a shower first, Peeks."

"Shut up, Sharpy," Pat says, "you're the one who dared me to."

They start bickering, and Jonny sighs, tugging off her undershirt and standing up to get rid of her pants. The reporters have already done their thing, at least, and she can sneak off to the showers without having to sit around being gross while she waits for them.

Patricia follows her a minute later. The girls' showers were actually built into the locker room a year or so ago; before that, her and Kaner had had the priviledge of waiting for all the guys to finish before they were 'legally' allowed to go in. Not that they ever did. Seabs, for instance, can stay in the showers for a fucking hour if you let him, and Jonny needs five minutes, tops, so screw that. Besides, they're hockey players; modesty went out the window ages ago.

And it was kind of fun to watch the guys attempt to find the shampoo bottles with their eyes closed, so there was that. Still, they got their own showering room when the remodel happened, and that was nice.

"So?" Patricia asks, and Jonny can hear her switching on the knob of the shower she'd picked. There are actually four stalls in the room: it makes Jonny a little hopeful that the Hawks plan to draft more girls to the team eventually. There's only twenty or so in the entire league right now, but there's more every year.

"So what?" Jonny says back, not really paying attention. The water pressure feels kind of off, but she'll manage. The water is warm anyway, and honestly, after being on the ice for two hours, that's good enough for her. But then she glances at Patricia over the little wall that separates the shower stalls, glimpses pale skin and pink nipple, and then closes her eyes under the pretense of not wanting to get water in them as she turns her face into the spray.

The thing is, Jonny doesn't look like Patricia. 

Not that she _wants_ to. Jonny's just as tall as any of the guys on her team, and she works hard for the muscled definition in her arms, abdomen and calves. It makes her strong enough to go toe-to-toe with any guy in the NHL, and she needs that. She has to keep up and be better than the rest of the guys if she wants to prove she's good enough to be their Captain, to lead them to the playoffs and to win all of it. 

She can do that. She wants to do that.

It's just.

Patricia Kane is maybe the best hockey player Jonny's ever played with, and she went to the Olympics with Sidney Crosby, okay, that's a huge fucking deal. Patricia's hands are like magic; the puck gravitates to her, and once she has it, she doesn't let it go until it's sailing into the back of the net for a goal that makes the entire arena scream.

Patricia works hard too: she keeps up with Jonny when they go jogging, on the sidewalk between their apartments and down to the park, or just in the gym on the eliptical. She can lift more weight than anyone her size has any right to, and she can grit her teeth and skate until she collapses. Jonny's actually seen her do that, so she knows how hard Patricia works.

She's fallen in love with how hard Patricia works.

But, Patricia is still pretty short, can't seem to bulk up past one-fifty no matter how much time she spends in the gym; no matter how many protein drinks she swallows down in a day. She's naturally skinny everywhere Jonny is naturally thick, and it's--when Patricia isn't in her hockey gear, she has a fucking _thigh gap_. Jonny's pretty sure she's _never_ had a thigh gap. Honestly, her thighs are just huge, same as her ass.

It's not like that's unusual though. Sidney has a pretty big ass too, it just comes with weight training they do for professional hockey. Carey, Michelle--any of the girls in the NHL, they're probably more like Jonny than they are Patricia, just because that sort of physicality is something you need to play ice hockey at this level without getting hurt.

But then there are girls like Patricia, or Jenna, and it's just.

It's just a little frustrating, that Patricia can be so _good_ at their sport, and then still look the way she does. 

Patricia says, "You're such a bitch; I'm not even asking anymore. You have no choice, you're going out with us. Maybe we'll even get you laid. We're off tomorrow."

Jonny grunts and shakes out her hair to run the shampoo all the way through it, but doesn't bother to protest much. A night out would probably be good, and Patricia's right, they don't even have an optional skate in the morning, so there's no reason not to get drunk tonight. 

She can't not respond though, so after a minute she says, "As long as you don't punch any more cabbies," with a cheeky smirk.

She doesn't look at Patricia again, but she can hear the scowl when Patricia calls her a bitch again. That's alright; Jonny'll take _bitch_ over a lot of other shit she's been called, and Patricia means it affectionately. Or, she does most of the time, anyway.

 

They only last at the bar for a couple hours, the adrenaline from the game slowly draining away as they sit and talk and ply their bodies with questionable amounts of alcohol. Patricia gets hit on twice, guys gravitating towards her smile and laugh and the easy promise of how much fun she'd be if they could get her to go home with them, but she turns them both down pretty quick. 

Jonny has a buzz going, and somehow ends up saying, "You should just come home with me instead," after the second guy slumps off.

Patricia stares at her for a second, just long enough for Jonny to re-evaluate what she'd just said, before she breaks out into a grin and says, "Can we paint each other's toenails like we're at a slumber party?"

"I'd paint your nails fucking green and blue if you made me do that," Jonny says in monotone, but her heartbeat is thumping in her chest, harder and faster than it was a minute ago. 

Patricia makes a face Jonny inwardly dubs as 'horrified' at the suggestion of Canucks-colored toenails. She shakes her head a minute later though and says, "Yeah, Tazer, let's share a cab. We can have girls' night!"

"Seriously though," Jonny says, before taking another drink from her beer, "I'm not getting anywhere near your feet." 

She really is relieved when Patricia says she'll come home with her though, even though it's not like she'd been looking to pick up tonight. And even if she had been--even if she found some nice guy to go home with, Jonny wouldn't say anything, wouldn't have the right. It's none of her business, not really, not even as her captain, let alone as one of her friends.

An hour or so later, they end up giggling as they fall out of the cab and slip a few times as they climb the stairs to Jonny's apartment, even though Jonny's pretty sure neither of them are actually very drunk. 

They both strip when they get in through the front door; Patricia has to borrow a t-shirt and pair of basketball shorts from the back of Jonny's dresser. They're a bit big for her, like Jonny's clothes always are when Patricia has to borrow something. She'd probably be more embarrassed about it, but it's not the first time Patricia's had to borrow her clothes, and the sight of it still makes Jonny flush with _want_.

It drowns out the embarrassment of being three pant sizes larger than the only other girl on her team. Mostly.

It's not like Jonny wishes she were skinnier or anything; she's bulky, yeah, thick in her hips and shoulders, but she's not overweight and she's healthier than most people tend to be. She'd be attractive, probably, if you were into that, but she's not _pretty_ no matter how you look at it. 

She could look in a mirror and point out every imperfection she has. Hell, she _has_ , from too-big thighs and awkwardly located moles to calves so big it makes it hard to find a pair of boots that fit in the winter. 

Jonny's mother has ended up giving her the talk about how _every body is different_ and _all of them are beautiful_ , more times than she can remember. It's a nice idea and probably true to a point, and it was meant from a good place, but Jonny'd heard it so often that she'd spent a couple years as a teenager convinced she was ugly, just because people were trying to reassure her that she wasn't. 

It probably hadn't helped that she'd grown up playing hockey, surrounded by boys who'd either wanted her off the team, or thought of her as just another boy. Her coach when she was twelve had actually gone three practices before realizing _Jonny_ wasn't short for _Jonathan_.

It doesn't matter though, because Patricia doesn't care if Jonny's clothes are too big for her.

Jonny pulls on a new t-shirt after ditching her bra, sighing with how much better her entire body seems to feel without it, and then tugs on a pair of sweats and pads out into the kitchen barefoot. She grabs them both waterbottles from the kitchen to head off the morning headaches. In the living room, Patricia is already on her knees in front of the television, fumbling with the playstation to turn on _The Cutting Edge_. 

"Ugh, figure skating," Jonny says, falling down on the couch, stretching her legs out. 

"Figure skating is brutal," Patricia says, and then crawls back over to climb up on the couch and lay down at the other end, scooting her feet inbetween Jonny's back and the couch. It's stupidly comfortable though, and Jonny doesn't make her move or even complain too much. 

"My parents tried to make me figure skate instead of play hockey, you know," Patricia muses a little while into the movie, and Jonny balks at her. "Yeah," Patricia says, "I liked hitting people too much for that to ever work out."

"I can't imagine you without hockey," Jonny finally says. 

"Yeah," Patricia says, sighing, "me neither. I can pull off a pretty nice spin on the ice still though."

Jonny kicks her and Patricia yells, "Fuck, weapons! Keep those to yourself, Jesus."

"Stop bragging," Jonny says, rolling her eyes. The dude on the screen is falling on his ass a lot--it makes her wonder if figure skating is really that much different, skating-wise. Obviously, you have to add in all the special moves, but.

"Your parents never tried to get you to do something more girly?" Patricia asks, peering up at her from where she's grabbed a couch pillow and is hugging it to her chest. 

"Not really. I mean, they named me Jonny, I don't know what they were expecting," Jonny says. There are some pretty embarrassing pictures of her in a pink ballerina costume floating around the internet somewhere, but there are worse things too: like the photo of her sitting on TJ's lap and drinking out of a beer bong like some sort of sorority chick gone crazy.

Ugh, the internet sucks.

"Yeah," Patricia says though, like she understands, and then she adds, "your ass is too big for figure skating anyway, you wouldn't have made it very far."

Jonny leans forward and grabs the pillow away from her, and then hits her with it and says, "Fuck you, I could skate circles around you," even while Patricia laughs hysterically as she tries to defend herself from the pillow. 

"I hear a challenge!" Patricia yells, and Jonny says, "Damn right. Tomorrow, after we go for a run, we'll head to a rink."

"After you go for a run, you mean," Patricia says, and Jonny just shakes her head and falls back down against her side of the couch, yawning. Patricia'll go for the run with her, even if Jonny has to blackmail her with breakfast first. She can feel Patricia's eyes on her for a minute after that, but tries to get back into the movie instead of arguing about tomorrow.

Eventually, the movie ends, but they're both asleep by the time it does.

 

It's not technically required that the girls wear dresses to the draft, or to the charity dinners, or even to the games when all the guys are required to wear suits, but at the same time, it's heavily implied. When she called home to complain about it after her first month as a rookie, David said, "Don't go biting the hand that feeds you, sis," and he was right, so Jonny mostly sucked it up and wore the stupid skirts until they signed her on with a no-trade clause, and she could get away with attending games in her slacks.

She got a couple comments about it in the media, but she still dresses up fancy at the charity dinners and press conferences or whatever else, so it blew over pretty quick. Patricia was there with her through the whole thing too, although Patricia still wears skirts half the time just because she likes them.

Of course, Patricia actually looks good in the skirts you can buy at Wal-Mart for five bucks, whereas Jonny has to buy the expensive shit, and then get it tailored. It's alright, mostly; it's not like she doesn't have the money and she looks fine when the dresses are actually tailored to fit her, so it's worth it.

The charity dinner they're all going to tonight was set up by management kind of last minute, and the last dress Jonny actually had tailored was before the season had started. It's almost too small, ends up clinging to thighs and breasts a little tighter than she's comfortable with. She stares at it for a good fifteen minutes, willing it to stretch, but in the end has to try and adjust her bra instead. God, she hates wire. 

Patricia's dress, when Jonny sees her, is strapless with no back--which means Patricia's getting away with no bra either, _fuck_. It's a snug fit on her, but looks like it's supposed to be that way. It's black with red sequins all over the place, and ridiculous red pumps to go with it. Jonny sticks to flats or half-inches at the most, thank you very much, but she guesses Patricia likes the extra two inches the heels give her.

"You wore that to the Presidents' thing last year," Patricia says, smiling when she ends up sailing through the opposing defense and finds the table with Jonny and her nameplates sitting on it. Jonny's already sitting down--they're supposed to be mingling with a bunch of old guys in suits, but there's only so much of that Jonny can take at a time.

"Yeah, and it barely fits, so they're lucky I'm wearing it at all," Jonny grumbles, and resists the urge to look down at it. It's just a plain black and white dress, made just to look nice and formal. Seeing Patricia's, she kind of wishes she had a red and black one too, since it's obviously meant to scream 'Go Blackhawks!'. Maybe without the sequins though.

She doubts that particular dress would look as good on her as it does on Patricia anyway.

Patricia sits in the chair next to Jonny even though the nameplate claims it belongs to Hossa. She looks at Jonny with wide eyes and says, "Wait, so if the dress hadn't still fit, you'd've come naked?" 

She laughs when Jonny rolls her eyes and says, "Yeah, Kaner, sure."

"Who's naked?" somebody says from behind them, and Jonny jumps, kind of guilty, before she realizes it's one of the rookies, looking at them uncertainly, like he's not sure if he's allowed in on this conversation or not. The whole sexual harrassment speel they give the players on unisex teams is fucking ridiculous anyway, so who knows where the line really is?

"Yo," Patricia says, patting the chair next to her. Saad sits down. "That'd be your captain," she adds a second later, and Jonny resists the urge to throw one of the complimentary pretzels sitting on the table directly at her head.

"Don't listen to her," Jonny says, trying to make herself seem like the kind of person you should listen to, but it's probably a lost cause. Patricia has the rookies wrapped around her finger. Saad's even sworn to wear a mullet with her for playoffs when they start this year, something Patricia's tried and failed to get Jonny to do. 

It's not a minute later that some of the other guys start trailing over, done with the schmoozing and catching sight of their teammates settling down at the tables. Dinner starts up soon enough, along with the speeches. The food is okay, but not anything worth paying five hundred dollars for, and the speeches are boring as hell, but it's over sooner than Jonny thought it would be.

It's the combined effort of Patricia, Shawzy and Bolly who get half the team, including Jonny, to head to a bar after they're allowed to leave. They're all still dressed up, and the bar is kind of seedy in that way Patricia seems to love, but that's what the drycleaners are for, probably. 

Patricia tips her head back and takes a shot before she's even sat down at the table the guys have claimed, and Jonny ends up watching her throat as she swallows. She slams the glass back down, adding to how sticky tables at these sorts of places always seem to be, and grins at Jonny. "Come on, Captain," she needles, and holds out her hand to pull Jonny up, "dance with me."

It's obnoxiously loud music over on the other side of the bar, a floor set aside specifically for the people drunk enough to want to try their hands at dancing. Jonny's less than crazed about the idea, but reaches out to take a shot anyway, and drinks it all in one go before she lets Patricia drag her out.

"I'd rather beat you at pool," she says, loudly so that Patricia can hear her.

Patricia laughs and says, "Of course you would, you competitive freak. Don't worry, I'll mess you up on the pooltable later. But this is my jam, man!" _Everything_ is Patricia's jam, Jonny thinks despairingly, but gives up. The more she protests, the worse Patricia's dancing tends to get, and it starts out pretty fucking bad in the first place. She doesn't need help.

At least Patricia's not the type to bump and grind; she sort of sways and jerks her elbows all over the place, lifts her knees when she feels like she's not moving enough. Jonny thinks she'd cry out of pure frustration if Patricia tried grinding up on her like some of the other people in the crowd are doing with their friends. 

For a minute though, when Jonny turns around and the crowd moves in a little, she thinks Patricia _is_ going to try it; she feels the pressure against her back, and the fingers on her arm, and can see the red sequins out of the corner of her eye. She spins around, only it's not Patricia, and turning around just encourages the girl who _is_.

"God, you're hot," she hears the girl yell, and then, "dance?" like it's a question even though it's obviously not, because she sort of already is. Her dress is black and tight in all the right places, and Jonny almost doesn't think about it when she puts a hand on the girls waist and moves with her, she just--she just keeps dancing, moving her hips and getting into the hot press of this girl right up against her.

It's not like she's never hooked up with a girl before, and she's obviously into Patricia, but it still kind of surprises her that she's not pulling away. But then, it's been a long couple of weeks, and playoffs are coming up so she won't have the time or opportunity to do this sort of thing for a while, and she just decides she's going to take advantage of it. 

She's honestly not sure where Patricia actually went until she's kind of sweaty and too hot to stay in the mess of bodies on the floor, and grabbing the girl's hand, drags her up and out of the crowd to go collapse at the table filled with her teammates. Lindsey slides in with her, half on top of her, and Jonny lets her have the beer that somebody had ordered for her.

Patricia is farther back in the table, next to Sharpy, chugging back beer like it's water in a desert. Bolly says, "Uh, what's your friend's name, Toews?"

"Lindsey," she says, shrugging so that Jonny can feel her shoulders move. They talk a bit more--Bolly and Bicks exclaim loudly when Lindsey says she's a lingerie model--but Patricia is being kind of quiet except when she asks, almost rudely, "And you're into Jonny? Seriously?"

Jonny throws a peanut at Patricia though, having to aim carefully when Lindsey starts playing with her hair--it's distracting. Jonny kind of wants to lean in and kiss her, and she thinks she's just drunk enough to do it despite all the ribbing she'll get from the guys when Sharpy says, voice plain, "Since when are you a lesbian, Tazer?"

Maybe she's drunk enough that everybody just seems like they're being rude: that's happened before. Or maybe they're just drunk enough that they don't realize they're assholes: that's definitely happened before. She's going to assume it's the second option.

"Dick," Jonny says, giving him an annoyed look. 

She doesn't bother to try and explain that she's not, really, she's just... into whatever she's into, and mostly that's Patricia on the ice, giving her a nice pass or taking one for a fucking beautiful goal, but sometimes it's not. Sometimes she's into hot lingerie models that want to dance with her, so fucking call the presses or whatever. It's not that crazy. Finally she settles on, "It was never relevant before," and shrugs, before turning to Lindsey and leaning in close, so that her mouth is against her ear and she can ask, "Hey, you wanna' go?" without any of the guys overhearing her.

Lindsey grins at her though, and says, "Hell yeah," and then tugs her up kind of the same way Patricia had earlier. Jonny has to wave off the guys' obnoxious hooting and whistling as she lets her pull her up, and looks back at them just long enough to seriously say, "Don't fucking be late for morning practice, any of you, it's not optional," even though coach had said it was.

There's never an optional skate this close to playoffs, honestly.

Lindsey smiles at her though, still holding her hand, and Jonny finally kisses her when they pile into a taxi and it's easier than trying to figure out small talk with what'll end up being a one-night-stand.

 

Jonny shows up at morning skate right on time, but the guys still clap when she walks into the locker room like she's doing a walk of shame. She flips them off and kicks off her flip-flops to pull on her practice gear, silently wishing she'd had that extra cup of coffee that morning even if the caffeine messed with her a little. 

"Thought you'd be at home for round two with the lingerie model," Bolly says, grinning. 

Jonny tugs her red practice jersey over her head and tugs her hair back out of the collar so that it doesn't pull, and puts it up in a pony tail. She looks at Bolly and says, "I paid for her taxi and came here, that's all, you don't get a story. We're wasting ice time, guys!"

Seabs gives her a look and says, "You kicked her out right after?"

"Dick move," Sharpy adds as he starts leaving for the ice, and okay, being a dick when he was drunk was one thing, but Jonny's kind of pissed now. 

She says, "No, I made her breakfast first," to Seabs and then chases after Sharpy and grabs his shoulder, making him turn around before they can reach the ice.

"Hey, is this a problem? If nothing else, keep it off the ice and out of the locker room," she says, and just saying that, she realizes she's pretty hurt. This is Sharpy; he's one of her best friends. She's never had to take the Captain voice with him before.

Sharpy looks chastised by the end though, and he's shaking his head, "Sorry, fuck. I didn't mean to be a jackass. I don't have a problem with who you hook up with, Tazer."

"Then what the hell?" Jonny asks, crossing her arms. She should let it go and join everybody else on the ice, but she just wants to know what the issue is. Maybe she can try and fix it, somehow, if it's not just that she hooks up with girls sometimes. It's not like she's the only bisexual player in the league. Hell, Fleury married her girlfriend a few years ago; they even have a kid now.

Sharpy gives her a pointed look and says, "You should've told Patricia." Jonny's so surprised she actually takes a step backward. 

"Kaner's not the one who had a problem with it," Jonny tries, and she's honestly confused now. "What you think I'm gonna' start hitting on my best friend because I finally decide to tell you I like girls sometimes? Fuck you."

"What?" Sharpy sends back, and then, "Holy shit, you're a fucking _idiot_. Look around, who isn't here?" He pushes past Jonny then, to get on the ice and skate off.

Jonny instantly starts scanning the practice jersey's hanging around, looking for Patricia, but she can't find her. She hadn't seen her in the locker room earlier either. Finally, she skates up to a group of a couple of the guys standing around and says, "Where the hell's Kaner?"

She just gets shrugs in response, and then Shawzy says, "She didn't take you seriously when you said it wasn't optional, I guess." He goes back to passing a puck back and forth with Bollig, and Jonny has to clench her fists to make it through practice without yelling. 

Her shower is quick and to the point, and she just throws on sweats before storming out of the arena and back to her car to drive to Patricia's apartment. She's worked herself into _pissed off_ by the time she parks and climbs out of her car, and rings Patricia's doorbell six times before Patricia finally opens the door, face set in a scowl, her hair a crazy, wild mess of knotted curls sticking up in every direction.

She has the red imprint of a pillow crease on her cheek, and Jonny says, disgusted, "Jesus, did you just wake up?" and pushes past her into the apartment. 

"It was optional skate," Patricia says, finally.

"Playoffs are in three weeks, Kaner."

Patricia really does glare at her this time, and she grits her teeth when she says, "I know. I needed the fucking day, alright? God, you're loud." 

Jonny follows her into the kitchen, watches her open the freezer and just stick her head inside. She's still in her pajamas, soft flannel pants that hang low on her hips and a tank top that's seen better days; it's easy to see the mole peeking out from where the tank isn't quite meeting the pants, and Jonny has to rip her eyes away. Patricia finally comes out with a bottle of half-frozen orange juice, lets the freezer door fall shut behind her.

"How drunk did you get last night?" Jonny asks, suddenly furious. If Patricia got fucking _trashed_ \--

"Why the fuck do you care? I can drink when I have a day off, it's what normal people do, maybe you've heard of it. Oh, wait, you're a freak, of course you haven't."

Jonny feels like she's been boarded, and she hisses out, "Fuck you! You don't get to use this as an excuse for another fucking weekend in Madison, you can't just drown your problems in booze all the time--"

"Oh, fuck _off_ ," Patricia yells. "I got drunk, I didn't go on a bender."

"When you get so trashed you can't get your ass out of bed for your _job_ in the morning--"

"It was optional, Jesus Christ! It's none of your fucking business!" Patricia yells, and she's fumbling with the bottle of orange juice, trying to untwist the cap with shaking hands. Frustrated, Jonny reaches for the bottle, wrenching it away and opening it up by using her shirt, and talks over Patricia, "Of course it's my business, I'm your captain; when you fuck up, it's my head."

She just wants to scream at Patricia until she _gets it_ , but when she shoves the unfortunate looking orange slush back at her, Patricia is clutching the counter behind her so hard her fingers have turned white and Jonny's startled to see that she's started to cry.

"You're crying," Jonny says, and Patricia jerks back like she's been slapped. 

"No, I'm not," she says, but she wipes angrily at her cheek anyway, and then stumbles over her next sentence, "I need the bathroom, okay, fuck off," and then practically runs out the kitchen door and into the hallway. Jonny tries following her, as soon as she realizes Patricia is _running away_ , but the bathroom door is slammed in Jonny's face before she can get her foot in to block it from happening.

"You can't just hide in there," she calls through the door instead. She's not as angry anymore; she is, of course, she's pissed and frustrated and confused, but something is wrong, something bigger than Patricia just getting too drunk last night. Why did she even need to get that drunk? Whatever Deadspin says, she's not usually this bad, not during the season, and definitely not when they have something to do the next day.

Patricia doesn't answer, but Jonny thinks she can hear sniffling, maybe, and definitely hears the cabinet mirror opening and closing, and then the faucet turning on. "Come on, Patricia," Jonny says again, when the water finally turns back off. She leans against the door, and when she still doesn't get an answer, she thumps her head against it instead.

"I'm sorry," she tries. She fucking hates apologizing, but if she replays the argument over in her head, she maybe went overboard. Or, definitely went overboard. She just... can't do anything by halves. Patricia knows that though, she has to, by now.

She hears the thump, and feels the door move. Patricia must be leaning against it on the other side, just like Jonny is. Her voice is muffled when she says, "I really am a screw up, aren't I?"

Jonny shakes her head, but Patricia can't see it. "I didn't mean that," she says.

"I do," Patricia says back. It sounds like she's giving into something.

"Quit being a dumbass," Jonny orders through the door. "Come back out here."

"I'm not good enough, Jonny," Patricia says, after a long minute, and the sound of her voice is coming from farther down, like she's slid to the ground. Jonny can almost see her, back pushed against the door, knees drawn up to her chest, trying not to cry.

Jonny drops to the ground, stumped. "Good enough at what?"

"At _everything_ ," Patricia says, her voice sounding wet and choked even through the door. "I can't--I can't do anything right, I can't, fuck." 

"Patricia," Jonny says, pressing a hand against the edge of the door.

"The only thing I'm any good at is hockey and I'm even screwing that up lately. And now I'm just making you deal with it. God, I'm sorry."

Jonny curls her fingers, drawing her hand into an easy fist, blunt fingernails scraping against the wood. She wants to know where this is coming from; how long this sort of insecurity has been eating at Patricia, and how long she's kept it from Jonny. Switzerland? Last year's clusterfuck of a season? Playoffs? Before Madison, probably.

Jonny finds herself wanting to apologize again, but she swallows the impulse. 

"You've gotta' know none of that is true," she says instead, and wishes she could touch Patricia, but the door is still shut closed between them. She tries to laugh, but it probably comes out weak. "You know you could screw up a goal a hundred times over and you'd still have more points than half the guys in the league. Come on, Patricia, please come out."

It's quiet for a second, but Jonny scrambles up when she hears the _click_ of the lock, and Patricia pulls the bathroom door open. "I lost us that game last week. I should've been able to put that puck in the goal, I just wasn't even looking, I wasn't--"

"Shut up, no," Jonny says, stern, and grabs Patricia by the shoulder because the door is open, because she _can_ , "you didn't lose the game, _we_ did. You don't get to take the blame. You know that, Pat."

"I feel like I'm constantly disappointing people," Patricia says, shaking her head, but she's leaning in towards Jonny, like she can't help it, "like I'm disappointing you."

"You're not," Jonny says, point-blank, because Patricia could never _disappoint_ her. But then she thinks about it and says, "I mean, yeah, sometimes, sure, nobody's perfect all the time. That'd be exhausting. But you--just, trust me, you're good enough, okay? We're gonna' make it this year, and we're gonna' win the cup, alright? Just to prove it to you."

Patricia smiles, and rubs at her eyes. They're red and blotchy, but Jonny's struck by the idea that they're not that much worse than they were before Patricia ran into the bathroom in the first place. "I screwed up in Madison," she says, quiet.

"Yeah," Jonny says, because she's not going to lie. She adds: "I screwed up in college. At least nobody got arrested in Madison."

"The cabbie--"

"I hid a concussion and it's the reason we lost the playoffs last year," Jonny says, letting the words settle around her. The guilt she had over that was overwhelming sometimes, had made her scream into her pillow when there'd been no hockey to play, nothing to work at, when she'd been told to sit in the dark with no lights, no phones, nothing, because the only way to get better was to do _nothing_.

"No," Patricia protests, "that's not--"

"Pat, yeah, it was. I mean, it was a bunch of things, but if I hadn't lied in the first place, we wouldn't have been in that position."

It's quiet for a minute after that. Patricia heaves a sigh and shifts her weight before she says, "God, I hate you."

"Really?" Jonny asks, finally letting go of Patricia. She feels drained and she wasn't even the one who'd cried all over the place, so Patricia must be exhausted, especially if she still has a headache. 

"No," Patricia says, quietly. "You're good people, Toes."

"Toews," Jonny pronounces, stressing the 'a' sound pointedly. "Go get some aspirin and drink your orange slush."

Patricia groans, putting a hand to her head, like Jonny's just now reminding her of the hangover she'd been trying to deal with when Jonny'd shown up. "Yeah," she says, and they walk back to the kitchen. Patricia starts to down the orange juice even though it's melted a little and probably tastes funny, and Jonny digs out the aspirin from the bread box. 

"Here," she says, handing two of them over. 

"Thanks," Patricia says, and then shakes her head. "Sorry for all the drama."

Jonny wants to say she doesn't mind, that it's _Patricia_ , that she loves her, that she's her best friend, that there'd never be too much drama for Jonny to deal with. She just shrugs though, says, "I'm your captain," and tries not to mind when Patricia turns away from her a minute later.

"Don't skip practice again," she says, before she leaves, and it's a hesitant last command, because just leaving after all that feels strange. 

"Aye, aye, Captain," Patricia says, saluting her from the doorway, ridiculous because she's still dressed in her pajamas and her hair is still wildly tangled and all over the place. 

It's hard to leave, but she manages.

 

They win against the Predators, barely, more thanks to Crawford than anybody else. Jonny claps him on the back at the end of the game, after he does his little spin-and-wave as the number one star of the game, says, "You were great out there, man," a little loudly so that he can hear her over the crowd. 

"Thanks," he says back, and then nods to her and says, "Your hair's falling out."

Jonny huffs and reaches up to mess with it. She's been trying to grow it out for playoffs, so it's a bit too long, but it's still not quite long enough to actually put it up in a ponytail and forget about it. Halfway to the locker room Seabs says, "Quit messing with it. It still looks better than Kaner's."

"Shut up, Garnier Fructis!" Patricia yells from a few people ahead of them, and everybody starts laughing while Seabs just shrugs and shakes out his hair, like some sort of male model. Jonny kind of wants to push him, just for that.

"Where's your fucking helmet hair, Seabs?" Jonny grumbles, and then heads straight for her locker to tug a Blackhawks cap over her head before the reporters can walk in. As if on cue, four or five guys with microphones and a camera stumble into the room, all dressed up. 

Jonny tries to wipe some of the sweat off of her brow and neck, but she knows what she looks like after games: red and blotchy and absolutely gross. It's their fault for not giving her long enough to shower and cool down before attacking her though. They huddle up around her and Corey's stalls, and she settles in to try and answer their questions.

By the time she's done, Patricia is back from the showers, toweling down her wet, messy hair and pulling her jeans on. Jonny waits for the customary invite--either to go play video games, or go out to a bar, or hell, something ridiculous that only Patricia would come up with, like go sing karaoke or shoot teenagers in a laser tag arcade. Well, no, they wouldn't do something like that tonight because there's another game tomorrow, but still, Jonny's expecting something.

Patricia just grins and waves though, says, "See you guys at morning skate!" and disappears through the doors.

It's not like they always hang out after games, just... nights like this, they usually do, if just to wind down from the hard win, talk it over and relax. Jonny shakes her head. Patricia's probably still kind of upset about breaking down and crying the other day; Jonny knows if she'd done that, she'd be so embarrassed she wouldn't even want to be in the same room as Patricia for a _week_.

Jonny'll give her the space. Instead she grabs Hossa and says, "Hey, you have dinner plans?"

Hossa's wife is an awesome cook, and their kid is super cute still, so Jonny actually ends up eating and playing with Mia more than they talk about the game. By the time she gets home, she's exhausted. She barely manages to toe off her shoes before she faceplants on her bed.

She wakes up too early the next morning, her phone beeping at her from her pocket where she's still wearing her jeans from the night before. 

She groans and turns over, covering her eyes with an arm to try and block out the light coming through the window. The phone beeps at her again a minute later, and she digs it out. Two missed calls, three messages, all from Patricia. She clicks open the messages, peering at her screen suspiciously.

 **Kaner:** open up! i brought food  
 **Kaner:** srsly ill eat yours  
 **Kaner:** jonnnnnnnny

Groaning, she forces herself up and out of bed, and walks to the door where she can actually hear it now, the sound of Patricia's obnoxious knocking on her front door. She pulls it open slowly, undoing the chain, and Patricia pushes her way in immediately, holding onto a greasy bag of what looks like McDonalds.

Jonny stares, unimpressed, while Patricia seems to be sizing her up.

"I'm not eating that," Jonny says, finally, and crosses her arms while glaring at Patricia in a way she hopes conveys _and neither are you_.

Patricia rolls her eyes and says, "They want me to gain weight; I can't do it on fucking lettuce and chicken, okay?"

"You talked to the trainers about it?" Jonny asks, perking up a little. Patricia usually scowls and gets annoyed when the trainers make her change her schedule or dietary habits. She might not seem like it, but Patricia is weirdly specific about things like that. _High-maintenance_ , the trainers mouth silently over her head whenever she comes in wigged out because her stick isn't taped right, or her skate's not sharpened quite the way she likes.

Personally, Jonny thinks that sort of thing is mostly in your head. If you can play, you can play no matter what stick you're using. But whatever, hockey players are raised to be superstitious, and Patricia's no exception.

"Yeah, yeah. I, uh, lost some weight, actually, last week. I got yelled at a little, so," Patricia says, holding the McDonalds up like a peace offering.

Jonny is not fooled. 

"You lost weight? How much?" If it was sudden and enough to make the trainers yell at her, Jonny's going to yell at her too. Patricia seems to know it, and she winces.

"Jesus, it happens, okay? I'm eating, I'm eating." She demonstrates by digging an extremely greasy looking breakfast sandwich out of the bag and settling on Jonny's couch before unwrapping it and taking a disgustingly huge bite. 

"Gross," Jonny says, shaking her head. Fuck Patricia and her weight issues anyway. Jonny has to work to keep her weight _down_ or she gets sluggish on the ice when she needs to be fast. At least she still weighs less than the big guys on the team, she thinks murderously, and walks into her kitchen to get a cup of some much needed coffee.

There's still about an hour before they'll need to get going to make morning practice on time. Jonny's actually lucky Patricia came over when she did; she doesn't think she set her alarm last night. 

"You gonna' need a ride?" she asks as she walks back into the living room.

"No, I drove," Patricia says, and she looks fine, but Jonny feels like she's missing something anyway.

"Okay," Jonny says slowly. After another minute of uncomfortable silence, Jonny shifts her weight and asks, "Did you come over for something then?" It's not that she minds Patricia being here, really, it's just that something is off, maybe.

She hates that feeling on a day when they have a game, and she wants to shake it off.

Patricia hesitates, and then shakes her head and shrugs, says, "Just the weight thing. And I really did buy you a sandwich." She gestures at the second one sitting on the coffee table, but Jonny scrunches up her nose at the idea of eating it.

"Well," Jonny tries, "since you're here anyway, we can share a car and you can just come back over after practice. Traffic'll be a bitch today."

But Patricia says, "Nah, I think I'll just go home and nap after practice. But I'll see you at the Center, okay?" and she's getting up, wiping her hands off on her jeans and throwing the wrapper in the trashcan like a basketball. "Two points," Patricia says, grinning.

If Jonny thinks back on it, Patricia did just go to a Bulls game a few weeks ago. Jonny was supposed to go with her, but bailed out at the last minute because of a meeting with the gender relations coordinator for the Hawks that had come out of the blue. Patricia's just lucky Jonny hadn't made her go too, because she technically should have.

Jonny stands there awkwardly until the door shuts behind Patricia, and she's left feeling kind of stumped about the whole thing, and not liking it. But after a minute she realizes she's still dressed in her jeans and t-shirt from yesterday, and goes to jump in the shower before she's late for practice.

 

They lose the game. Christ, they lose the game _hard_. Jonny barely resists the urge to crumble into a ball and cry about it, and she almost never feels that way. The entire team is quietly somber in the locker room as they dress down, nobody quite willing to look up and make eye contact with anyone else. 

Jonny can't help but feel like it's her fault. She let her guys down with this one. It was a clusterfuck from the very first period: they were sleeping out there, nobody was _moving_ , and Jonny couldn't do anything about it. Their shots on goal was fucking pathetic, and sure, they caught up a bit in the third period, but they still lost. 

She let them get to that point, so far behind that it was impossible to catch up.

She needs to move; tell Corey and Ray that they did good, that it wasn't their fault at all. 

She can't make herself look at them, and when the reporters come in, she drags her face up, stares into the camera, and bites it all back. 

Nobody goes out that night, not least of all because they have a four-game roadtrip starting tomorrow, and everyone needs their sleep. That's another thing Jonny hates though, starting a roadtrip off of a loss. It just feels like starting a game with a chipped skate, or a stick that's already cracked.

The off feeling she had that morning seemed to spread through her, through the entire team. It's not that they lost the game, it's that they _let_ the other team beat them. They didn't even put up a fucking fight until the last period, and by then it was too late.

What sort of leadership material is that?

She spends a long time in the showers after the reporters leave, until hopefully most of the fans have given up and gone home, until her skin is red from the hot water. She pads back out into the locker room with a towel wrapped around her, honestly expecting to be the last one still there.

But Patricia is leaning back in her stall, eyes closed, and jerks up when she must hear Jonny's footsteps. Patricia does that thing with her eyes, like she's just _sizing Jonny up_ , judging the situation before diving into it. Jonny, weirdly embarrassed considering they've seen each other naked more times than she can count, makes a grab for her jeans so that she can try and tug them on without dropping the towel.

"Hey," Patricia says, after a long minute. Her hair is still dripping, even though she'd gotten out of the shower ages ago. "I'm sorry we sucked today, but it happens, you know? It wasn't your fault."

"I'm the captain," Jonny says, stilted. "It's always--"

"You're such a fucking double standard," Patricia says, voice rising up quickly. "It's not a one-man hockey team, for me _or_ you _or_ Crow."

"I know, alright?" Jonny says, and then covers her face with her hands, just breathing. "I know," she says again, a second later. "I could've done more though. I should've done more to get us out of that rut. Nobody was fucking awake, Kaner. We left Corey out to dry."

"You can't control the mood of the game," Patricia says, and then bumps her shoulder. Jonny jerks up, not realizing she'd even moved that close. "And we woke up in the third. You saw Carcie's goal? That was pretty awesome, come on."

Carcillo had nearly broken his foot on that wrap-around, Jonny thinks, but then they'd all tackled him into the boards out of sheer joy as the momentum started to shift for them, _finally_. "Yeah," Jonny says, "and Corey and Ray both had some good saves. I need to talk to them. I should've done it right away, I just..."

"Give yourself a break, _Captain_ ," Patricia says again, her voice going sing-song like she's teasing when she says 'captain'. "We'll just have to give the guys a shut-out against Nashville, yeah?"

Jonny takes a deep breath and grins, and says, "Yeah, sounds like a plan."

 

It's not a shut-out, but they do manage to win by a good three points, and it's good enough for Jonny. Nashville doesn't have any female players, and so they don't have any seperate showers in the visiting locker room for Jonny and Patricia. They have these weird curtains put up though, ugly yellow with the predator logo plastered all over it, and Sharpy spends so much time laughing at it that Jonny is half-tempted to throw a bar of soap at him. 

Patricia actually does it, poking her head and arm out from behind the stupid curtains to make sure her aim is spot-on. 

Nashville is a big enough city that they're not going to be impugning on anybody's territory by going out for a couple drinks after the win, and so Jonny lets herself be dragged out by Saad's hopeful eyes and Shawzy's vague threat of getting plastered if nobody's there to make sure he doesn't.

Jonny doesn't trust Bollig or Saad with this, despite them both saying they'll manage to get Shawzy back to the hotel mostly sober. She might have trusted Patricia and Sharpy with it, but they're both already laughing over nothing, and they haven't even had a drink yet.

Jonny designates herself as the only responsible member of their party with an audible sigh.

By the time Patricia starts making out with a guy at the bar, Jonny's three shots in and wishing she'd stayed at the hotel with Duncs and Seabs to look at fucking sonogram photos. The table, when she lays her forehead on it, is sticky. She makes a face up at Sharpy when she says so, but he just says, "You are not that drunk, Toews. Man, just talk to her."

"She's busy," Jonny says, and then she sits up straighter because Sharpy is giving her that look, and oh, fuck, shit, that's not good _at all_. "I don't like Patricia," she denies immediately, before Sharpy can even insinuate it. "She can hook up, I don't care."

"I didn't say anything," Sharpy says, putting his hands up placatingly. 

Patricia comes back to the booth with three beers a few minutes later, passing one to Sharpy and Jonny both. She scoots in next to Sharpy though, leaning on him and saying, "Man, Sharpy, I feel bad for Abby having to deal with your face every day."

Sharpy says, "Yeah, it's hard to look at perfection for too long."

Jonny is drunk enough to say, "No, it's not," while blinking at Patricia and her stupid hair and stupid dimples and that stupid smile she gets when she's surprised and amused all at the same time. 

Jonny's saved from the awkward staredown by Shawzy, Saad and Bollig all coming back to the table, snickering as they point out where Bicks is trying and failing to dance with a girl wearing signifcantly less clothing than Jonny is.

She's forced to admit that she's maybe not living up to being the responsible one here, and hopes that Sharpy is up for the job, because she's stumbling out of the booth when she says, "I'm out," and has her phone out, already looking to call a cab. She thinks she has the number saved from the last time they were in Nashville. 

"Is the captain plastered?" she hears Saad ask, and it almost sounds kind of worried. Come to think of it, he's probably never seen her drunk before. It happens a lot less than with Patricia, for sure.

She lets Sharpy deal with it and goes outside, zipping up her hoodie as she does to guard against the cold. She's acting ridiculous, she thinks fiercely. It's just that Patricia's been kind of weird with her lately; ditching her one night and coming over the next for no reason before ditching her again, and Jonny feels hyped up and awkward all at the same time. 

Playoffs are in two weeks; she seriously has to get over this.

 

The next three games go pretty good, with two wins, and one loss in overtime. She and Patricia have accidentally kept up a tie in goals for a few games now, and the media's latched onto it like they're doing it on purpose. Although, Jonny can't lie: she doesn't like losing, and that might be putting an extra bit of energy in her skates during the game when Patricia's up one goal on her. 

They aren't rooming together this year at least; Jonny's not sure she could deal with all the weirdness 24/7. She's had several panicked moments where she thought Patricia was acting weird because she knew Jonny has a big fucking gay crush on her, but thinks Patricia probably would have said something if she'd figured it out. She's too nice to ignore it, or she'd want all the details.

Maybe it really is just the pressure of playoffs coming up; of Patricia trying to be _good enough_ for the team. 

But then they're back at home, with a two-day stretch of no games, and practice runs long when Q and Kitchen start talking to her about what she can do to improve her face-off statistics. She admits she's been kind of struggling with them lately, and so she listens intently and tries it out on the ice before she gives in and gets off the ice, her legs heavy from the strain of skating for too long.

She doesn't bother showering, just grabs her bag and her phone and heads out to the parking lot with a wave at the guys still dressing into their civies. When she gets to her car though, she scuffles in through her bag and ends up groaning when she can't find her keys. Tired already, she trudges back into the center.

The locker room is empty, and her keys are on the floor in front of her stall. She's reaching down to grab them when she hears Patricia come up behind her and say, "Didn't you already leave?"

Patricia's still dressed in her pads and practice jersey, her hair a frizzy mess barely contained in a ponytail. She thumps down on the bench and starts struggling to take off her pads. 

"Yeah," Jonny says, and then holds up her keys, "forgot these." She stuffs them into the pocket of her sweats.

"Oh," Patricia says, and then pulls her jersey up and over her head, and Jonny turns around, ready to leave. 

She stops though, and asks, kind of hopefully, "Hey, uh, do you want to come over? We can do girls' night again. Or we can practice your Mario Kart skills; I know you need to brush up."

Patricia looks at her, and Jonny can _see_ her halfway to agreeing before she hesitates. Fed up with it, Jonny says, "Or not, whatever. Jesus, Patricia, you're going to have to get over it."

"Get over what?" Patricia asks quickly, her voice kind of high-pitched and alarmed.

"Uh," Jonny starts, suddenly unsure, "that I hook up with girls sometimes? That's why you're being weird, isn't it?" Patricia looks shifty though, and Jonny says, "Don't even fucking lie, you're a terrible liar."

"Ha," Patricia says, "you think so?" She tugs on her t-shirt; it clings to her arms. "Look," she says finally, "I'm not mad that you hook up with girls or anything. I just wish you'd _told_ me."

"Oh," Jonny says, surprised even though she's not sure why. She shifts her weight, fidgeting. "Sorry, I--it just never came up."

"Yeah," Patricia says, sighing. "I know, and I don't really have any room to talk. I, uh, I like girls too? Sometimes."

Jonny stares at her, the way she bites her bottom lip and shrugs, a cross between carefree and nervous that only Patricia could manage to pull off.

"That's... nice," Jonny hazards, finally, because Jesus, what's she supposed to say? Her mind is reeling, like her entire worldview just tipped precariously to its left instead of staying put the way it's supposed to. Is she supposed to be mad? Happy? Does it even matter?

Patricia makes a noise, full of frustration, and stands up, shoving her feet into battered flip-flops. "That's nice?" she says, sounding like she's grinding her teeth. "Awesome, thanks."

"What?" Jonny says, weakly. "What am I supposed to say? 'Welcome to the club?'"

"I don't know!" Patricia says, louder, and Jonny's struck by the sudden thought that they're doing this in the locker room; it's not exactly private. 

"Sorry," Patricia says after a second. "For being weird, I guess. It came out of nowhere, you know? We're supposed to be friends."

"We are," Jonny says quickly, reassuring her.

"Yeah," Patricia says, but it's sad. "It was easier when I thought you were straight."

Jonny, confused, asks, "What was easier?"

"Everything, basically," Patricia says, laughing a little. "If you just liked guys, then okay, I could deal with that. But if you like girls, then that means you just don't like me, right?"

Patricia is looking at the floor, and Jonny is--

She feels like she's stumbling on the blue line; like somebody's passed the puck and she's panicking and doesn't know what to _do_ with it. Does that actually mean Patricia's into her? Is that what this is?

"I'll see you, Jonny," Patricia says, quiet, and then she's just--she's leaving, and that's not okay, that's not what should be happening, but Jonny can't say anything and doesn't move to stop her.

There are so many variations on how this could go, and Jonny's speeding through all of them; if Patricia's just upset Jonny kept it a secret, or if she's just thinking she's not good enough again, or if she's just thought about what it'd be like to sleep together, not actually _date_ , and--oh, fuck.

"Patricia!" she yells as she jumps up and starts running out of the locker room, hurriedly chasing Patricia down the hallway. She finally catches up to her just outside the center doors, and the sunlight is bright enough that Jonny has to bring an arm up to block it out of her eyes.

"Look, it's fine," Patricia says, as she keeps walking towards her car, keys already in her hand, "I get it."

Patricia's voice is hitching though, wobbly sounding, and she isn't looking at Jonny. When she stops by her ridiculously bright red sports car, Jonny punches her in the shoulder and says, "There's no crying in hockey, Kaner."

She doesn't laugh it off the way Jonny was expecting though, doesn't deny it. She doesn't even look at Jonny, just brings her keys up and says, "Gotta be better, huh?" just loud enough that she must know Jonny can hear it.

God, Jonny's already screwing this up.

Patricia clicks the unlock button on her keys then, and Jonny instinctively reaches forward and grabs her wrist, stopping her from moving to get into her car. She snaps her gaze up, looking right at Jonny's face, and Jonny wishes she could just _kiss her_ , and that that would explain everything. She'd put the puck in Patricia's zone, let Patricia decide the next shift.

She takes a quick breath and says, "Listen to me for a minute, okay? I don't want to screw up our dynamic on the ice," and just saying it like that, it feels like she's running away, like she's rejecting something before it's on the table, and she hates it. "I mean, if you're--fuck!" 

She rubs at her face with her palm, trying to get her nerve up and _focus_.

"It's not like I don't like you," she ends up with, finally.

"But?" Patricia prompts, and when Jonny looks at her again, her face is set like a challenge, different than the way she was looking at Jonny before.

Jonny lets go of her wrist. She could say _but I'm your captain_ , or _but we're best friends_ , or just _we can't_ , but all she ends up doing is shrugging helplessly. "I don't think there is one," she says, honestly, heart in her throat. "I like you. If you want me to."

Patricia laughs, awkwardly, and says, "If I want you to?"

"Either way," Jonny admits. "But don't," she adds, "don't fucking pretend you want me back if you don't, because that's not fair to either of us, and hockey's more important anyway--"

"You're so fucking stupid," Patricia says, but this time when she grins, it's huge, like she's honest-to-God _happy_ , and Jonny feels her heart stutter in her chest just at the sight of it. "I'm pretty sure I've liked you way longer than you've liked me, Jonny, please."

"Then you want to?" Jonny asks, and then winces at how her voice sounds, all hopeful and betraying everything she's feeling.

"Oh my God," Patricia says, and jerks her car door open, "get in the car, Jonny."

"I drove," Jonny says, looking back across the lot to where her silver hybrid is sitting, patiently waiting for her. Patricia's face is a mix of disappointment and uncertainty all the sudden though, and Jonny swallows. "I'll meet you, eh? Where are we going?"

"Uh," Patricia says, "I hadn't thought that far."

Jonny's almost disppointed too, because she thought--it's not like they haven't hung out at Patricia's place before, but maybe this is different. Or, no, this is definitely different, Jonny's just not sure what to do about it. "Lunch?" she suggests, finally. "We could go to Olive Garden." There's one pretty close to Patricia's apartment, actually, and they can get healthy enough food there if they don't order off the menu. "In like an hour? I need to take a shower," she adds, so Patricia knows why. 

Patricia kind of laughs and says, "Yeah, I guess I should change too?" 

Jonny likes Patricia in pretty much everything she wears, baggy sweats or not, but. "Yeah," she says, and then they stand there awkwardly for a minute before Jonny finally takes a step backward, and Patricia says, "So, um, I'll see you, then," before getting into her car.

For roughly the first time in her life, Jonny is having a panic attack about what she's going to wear, and it has nothing to do with a charity dinner for her hockey team.

 

Jonny spares thirty seconds considering an outfit before she just tugs on a clean pair of jeans and dark henley, pushing up the sleeves before heading out the door. It's not the first time she's had lunch out with Patricia, even by themselves, but her stomach is twisting uncomfortably anyway. It's fine to know she's in love with her best friend; that ship sailed somewhere between rookie year and having Patricia pour beer down her throat in front of fifty thousand people. But honestly, it's always been this vague knowledge she's pushed down, out of the way of everything else. Actually doing something about it is kind of terrifying.

What if it doesn't work? It's not that she thinks it'd ruin their friendship, because that'll always come first, and she knows Patricia has to feel the same way. But to have the chance at something more and _fail_? It's not there's a 'next season' for this sort of thing. It's do or die, and what if she does it wrong?

The longest relationship Jonny's ever had was three months with a guy she barely ever saw, and who eventually broke up with her because she wasn't there often enough to make it worth dealing with everything else, and when she was, adjusting to having him in her space was just too hard when she had to leave again a few days later.

It was mostly a blow to her self-esteem when he left though; she doesn't want to think about what'll happen if _Patricia_ says no after actually giving it a go. 

Olive Garden isn't too busy when she gets there, but she can see Patricia's car as she pulls in. Shaking her head, she gets out and locks the car, and then jogs up the pavement to pull open the restaurant doors and go on in. Patricia is leaning against a support beam right there at the entrance, and Jonny has to ignore the urge to laugh at her right off. 

Patricia's tried to comb her hair back at some point in the last hour, but it's already starting to frizz up, fighting against the obviously generous amount of gel Patricia had used to try and make it stay down. And she's wearing a dress, camisole and red, showing off her shoulders and legs. 

"Hey," Jonny says, swallowing. They really are on a date.

"Hey," Patricia says back, grinning. Just before a waitress comes over to show them to a table, antsy at the silence, Patricia blurts out, "Like my shoes?"

Jonny slowly grins when Patricia makes a face at her own question, but Jonny bumps her shoulder as they follow the waitress. "Yeah, I like your _shoes_ ," she says, making fun of her. Actually, it's fairly normal: if there's one absolutely stereotypical thing about Kaner, it's her obsession with shoes.

She collects them, and she's fucking _picky_ about it too. Jonny's seen her closet; it's pretty ridiculous. She thinks Patricia has more shoes than she does actual clothes. And that's not including the ones she keeps at home in Buffalo. Not that she's seen Patricia's closet in Buffalo, but her brothers make fun of her often enough that she can imagine it pretty well.

"No thanks," Jonny says before the waitress can give them the neverending breadsticks, and Patricia kicks her under the table and smiles cheekily at the waitress with a, "Thanks, I'll take that."

"Really?" Jonny asks as soon as the waitress takes their orders and leaves. 

"It's my splurge day," Patricia says, and doesn't even seem all that guilty about it.

"You don't have a splurge day," Jonny denies for her.

Patricia comes back with a, "Sure, and you don't hide Lucky Charms behind the the generic whole grain shit you pretend you eat."

Jonny scowls. She has one box, and she only pulls it out when she needs the sugar. It's probably a lost cause though, so she doesn't argue anymore, just shakes her head in overexaggerated disappointment as Patricia stuffs a breadstick in her mouth. 

It's a little later, when Jonny's complaining about where the waitress went because they're both out of water already, when Patricia interupts her, almost casually, "So this is a date, right?"

"Yeah," Jonny chokes, "that's what we're doing, right?"

"Mmhmm," Patricia hums. "Just making sure."

The waitress finally comes back over to fill their water and drop off their plates, and Jonny doesn't let Patricia get the re-fill of breadsticks without too much a scuffle. Jonny spears her salad and then asks, "So, uh, how're your brothers?"

Patricia snorts and swallows before she says, "Dicks, as always. Eric has a crush on his literature professor, I'm pretty sure. Oh, Jack made the A squad for his basketball team. How's David?"

"Good," Jonny answers, and it's true, mostly. "He's been dating the same girl for a while now. I guess it's getting pretty serious. I'm supposed to meet her this summer after playoffs are over."

"Yeah, she'll want pictures with the cup," Patricia grins.

Jonny just really, really wants to win the cup so that she can hand it to Patricia and say _we did it_ , but she grins and says, "Well, obviously."

At one point, they end up talking about hockey plays, and Patricia's hand is lying on the table, palm up. Jonny is three seconds from saying screw it and _grabbing it_ , when the waitress comes over to give them their check and she has to sheepishly pull out her wallet to pay instead. 

Patricia is getting up by the time Jonny's handed over her debit card, but she says, "I've got a bunch of Family Guy on my DVR," casually, and Jonny says, "Yeah, okay," before there's a beat between them.

Patricia huffs and gives a short laugh before she starts to walk through and out the restaurant. Jonny blatantly watches Patricia's shoulder blades shift her as she moves, and notes how the red straps running across her back in a 'x' pattern contrast with how pale her skin actually is. God, she wants to press her hands against the square of Patricia's back, wants to run her fingers over her skin.

She gets her debit card back from the front desk before going outside. Patricia hesitates before getting in her car though, waits until Jonny catches up with her. When she does, Patricia says, "So... this was good, right? I mean, we'll do it again, probably?"

 _We'll never_ stop _if I have anything to say about it_ , Jonny thinks, and she wants to kiss Patricia so badly her fingers twitch. The restaurant doors open again though, and a loud family pours out of the doors. Right; she can't kiss Patricia in an Olive Garden parking lot.

She just says, "Yeah," and then, "Meet you at your place?"

Patricia nods and they get in their separate vehicles; Jonny's heart is still going a mile a minute.

She manages to pull into the apartment's parking garage before Patricia gets there, and parks in one of Patricia's reserved spots before settling in to wait. It doesn't take long, and then they're walking up the stairs to Patricia's floor. "You took a minute," Jonny says, halfway there, and Patricia says back, "Shut up, I hit a red light. Don't turn everything into a competition."

"Everything _is_ a competition," Jonny says, a little bit smug, because it's true. Patricia rolls her eyes at her again though, says something under her breath, and then pulls out her keys as soon as her door comes into view. 

"Kaner, hold up," Jonny says, before Patricia can get her key into the lock. 

"Hm?" Patricia hums, turning back around to give Jonny her attention.

Jonny just--she just _wants_ , and she already knows that she can't sit and watch _Family Guy_ all night without having done this first. For all her nerves, and her doubts, and it taking _years_ to get to this point, it's remarkably easy to push Patricia up against her door, boxing her in. It's even easier to recognize the way Patricia's eyes look go wide, the way her throat moves as she swallows, and God, how she licks her bottom lip when she's nervous.

It's easy to kiss her; lips absurdly soft and chapped and sticky wet.

She pulls back slowly, not for any special effect, but because she doesn't really want to stop. Patricia is halfway pushing up on her toes, and she blinks her eyes open as soon as Jonny isn't pressed up against her anymore.

"Oh," she says, "we could just do that instead, maybe?"

And yeah, Jonny thinks that'd be okay with her.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, what I want girl!Kaner's mullet to look like: [here](http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Txku6Q-b5d0/TodT8ceFcNI/AAAAAAAABgI/zkn_w1YxP6Y/s1600/mullet_scarlettjohansson.jpg).  
> What girl!Kaner's mullet probably looks like: [here](http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O5JTSpYx-yY/TjLidf7Q8_I/AAAAAAAAAPU/_HTVMhw8ODs/s1600/TheMullet.png).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic of] Shut Up Honey](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1986414) by [exmanhater](https://archiveofourown.org/users/exmanhater/pseuds/exmanhater)




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